ON a ship's poop I'd like to lie, if I could have my way, With over it the weather-cloths, thumped loudly by the spray; A sputtering fire between two stones, edging it like a mound, A pot perched on them, boiling brisk, with bubbling empty sound; An unwashed cabin-boy to serve; for table I would make Use of some handy plank; maybe a game of give and take With sailors gossiping around . . . Lately this chanced to me, Who always find myself at home in simple company. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE SOUTH ON ITS NEW SLAVERY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE FIGHT OF THE ARMSTRONG PRIVATEER by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA by HENRY CLAY WORK GOLDEN HILL by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG AN ESSAY TOWARDS A CHARACTER OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY KING JAMES II by PHILIP AYRES THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: LEBID by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE GLOW-WORM by VINCENT BOURNE |